


By Your Side

by airebellah



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Couch Cuddles, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Not Underage, Post-Avengers 4, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protective Tony, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airebellah/pseuds/airebellah
Summary: Even a year after Thanos' defeat, Peter occasionally struggles with sleeplessness and nightmares. When Tony tries to comfort him, they both end up falling asleep on the couch.Peter sat on the edge of the leather couch, head between his knees and fingers laced against the back of his head. Tony gently eased down beside him; the moment his arm wrapped around the boy’s back, Peter sat up and fell into Tony’s side, shoulders hunching inward as his nose pushed into the man’s collar.“You’re good,” Tony assured, hand squeezing the boy’s bicep. “Everything’s fine now, Pete.”





	By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, everyone who was dusted returned and there were no other deaths.
> 
> Inspired by [this artwork](https://magicfishhook.tumblr.com/post/174983611841/somebody-forgot-an-important-meeting-doesnt) from tumblr

“Hey, kid?”

Peter’s chin slowly lifted, bloodshot eyes forced from the bowl of disgusting, sugary cereal he had just slathered in orange juice. Tony’s lips pursed as he took in the teen’s pallor; the skin around his eyes and on his cheeks was blotchy and inflamed.

It was no secret that Peter still struggled to cope with last year’s events. With watching his comrades fade away as his body desperately struggled to heal itself, his extra senses hysterically warning the inescapable danger before collapsing in Tony’s arms… only to be thrust back into his body once more, to go home to an aunt who had been struggling to cope with losing the last family member she had.

Peter was far too familiar with death for someone so young, yet his own was hard to come to terms with. But Tony had watched Peter regain his confidence in fights once more, had seen his generalized anxiety ease (by no means vanish, but near-retreat to Peter’s baseline socially-provoked anxiousness), and the nightmares fade into infrequency.

Tony had been away on business having only arrived a few short hours ago, so he could not say what had provoked the boy’s distress this time. But it seemed Peter had felt the effects for a few days, given the deep shadows ringing his eyes. The kid blinked at him owlishly, hand still tipped to pour juice into the rapidly filling bowl.

“Mr. Stark,” he greeted, brows pulling together slightly as his voice croaked.

“Is this a new trend?” Tony asked, chin jutting to the ruined breakfast.

“What?” Peter mumbled, belatedly following Tony’s gaze as the liquid hit the brim of the bowl, orange juice and stale marshmallow bits pouring onto the counter. “Oh.”

Peter dropped the carton, turning to grab a hand towel with jarring slowness compared to his normally super-fast reflexes. Tony surged forward, plucking the cloth out of the teen’s lax grip. “Kid, it’s alright,” he soothed as Peter stared up at him with wide, questioning eyes. “I’ve got it. Hey - why don’t you go sit in the living room, pick a movie?”

Peter trudged away without a word as Tony half-heartedly mopped up the mess. His fist clenched the cloth until orange juice squelched between his fingers as he thought of Peter chugging down coffee to stay awake, unable to let his eyes rest lest his brain torment him with memories and horrifying visions, while Tony was miles away, sipping champagne and signing deals for what amounted to little more than material, transient gains. The sopping towel thudded against the slick counter as Tony followed his troubled mentee to the living room, the mess to be cleaned later.

The television was not turned on, nor was a movie paused in stifled anticipation of Tony’s arrival, as usual. Instead, Peter sat on the edge of the leather couch, head between his knees and fingers laced against the back of his head. Tony gently eased down beside him; the moment his arm wrapped around the boy’s back, Peter sat up and fell into Tony’s side, shoulders hunching inward as his nose pushed into the man’s collar.

“You’re good,” Tony assured, hand squeezing the boy’s bicep. “Everything’s fine now, Pete.”

They stayed like that, until the slight stutter of breaths panted against his stubble-covered neck evened out. Then Tony shifted, leaning against the couch’s back, one leg stretching behind Peter as he tugged the boy between his legs and against his chest once more. “Anything in mind?” he murmured to the tumble of chestnut curls teasing his jaw. Receiving a negatory headshake, Tony selected the first comedy that popped up.

“Friday, dim the lights,” he ordered softly as he turned down the volume. Peter’s senses tended to become unpleasantly heightened with emotional reactions. Besides, the boy seemed much more vested in what Tony could not deny was full-on cuddling now, given his eyes did not once raise from the soft material of the older man’s shirt. And as he brushed his nose against the top of Peter’s head, and that familiar scent of cheap, minty, drugstore-brand shampoo filled his nose (Peter seemed to have an aversion to Tony’s expensive tastes, and Tony had unfortunately learned to stock the tower with products more familiar to the teen), he found he couldn’t agree more.

It was a gradual, natural progression that had him shift so he leaned against the backrest, stretching out along the couch. He didn’t even need to tug the boy along with him this time; Peter readjusted with a small grunt, cheek resting against Tony’s chest and a knee shifting up, thigh hitching across Tony’s knee. As he settled, sprawled along Tony’s body, his right hand released its death grip on the man’s shirt to fall over the edge of couch. With a soft huff of laughter, Tony rested his hand on Peter’s mid-back and hugged the boy to his chest.

 

The credits had long since rolled when Tony was jerked awake by a vibration in his pocket. He quickly silenced the call before gingerly tugging out the phone. His eyes adjusted to the bright, disturbing light as Peter yawned sleepily into the drool-dampened material of Tony’s shirt. The ID, _Pepper,_ pulled a sigh from Tony just as the call went dead. She didn’t bother to leave a voicemail, instead texting him, _The meeting will start in 15 minutes!_

It wasn’t even a choice as Peter’s head tiredly lifted to peer up at him. “Mr. Stark?” he mumbled, lips smacking as his hand lifted to wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted as he pocketed the phone. “Catch up on some sleep?”

While Peter grunted in affirmation, his head immediately thudded back against Tony’s chest. The older man chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately. He had thought Peter had fallen back asleep when the teen’s head tilted back slightly. Tony got the barest hint of doe-brown eyes peeking up at him under dark lashes.

“I had a dream. You were gone,” he confided, rushing to add, “I mean, in the -- you were gone in the dream.”

The clarification did little to stem the guilt seeping through Tony’s chest; he had been gone, in real life, and unable to comfort Peter. His fingers tightened in Peter’s hair, other hand lifting to rest on the teen’s lower back. His shirt had lifted, leaving Tony’s pinky resting against soft, hot skin - he always seemed to run hot, likely an effect of his mutation.

“It felt so real,” the boy murmured. “I know it’s stupid, but I just couldn’t… go back to sleep, knowing it might happen again.”

“You know you can always call me, right?” Tony asked. When Peter didn’t respond, he tugged on the boy’s hair until those bright, brown eyes locked on his. “Pete?”

Tony’s gaze pulled away to stare as Peter’s tongue dragged across his bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, I mean -- yeah.”

He sounded less sure than Tony would have liked, but he decided to let it go for now. Especially as Peter began to squirm and _shit,_ the feeling of his hard stomach shifting against Tony’s groin was more tempting than it had any right to be.

“It’s just,” Peter began with a sigh, worrying his bottom lip as he stared up at Tony with aching earnesty. “You’re so important, and I’m just… me. I never wanna bother you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s hand dropped from the top of Peter’s head to cradle his cheek. Peter leaned in unabashedly, eyes fluttering shut. “You never bother me, kid,” he promised. “You’re such a good boy for me, Pete.”

_What the fuck._ Why would he blurt out such a thing? How creepy could he get, saying something like that while the boy was literally in his lap? Peter’s eyes shot open, lips parting against the edge of Tony’s palm. “I-I am?” he asked, voice so painfully hesitant in its neediness.

“Of course, Pete,” he answered immediately. His chest ached at the boy’s obvious insecurity as Peter sagged against him, visibly relieved, even as his groin simultaneously twitched at the incidental rub of skin against him.

“Always,” he found himself continuing, swallowing against the sudden dryness of this throat. “You’re always such a good boy for me.”

The teen honest-to-God _mewled,_ cheeks burning as he buried his face in Tony’s palm, hitched breaths huffing against his wrist.

“Have I never told you that before?” he coaxed, as his self-control decidedly short-circuited.

“I - I think I would remember that,” Peter stammered, turning back to stare up at Tony. His lip was wedged between his teeth once more, and Tony’s thumb stretched out to prod at the reddening skin.

“You always listen to me. Actually,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Scratch that. You regularly disobey me. Now that I think of it, you’re quite naughty.”

_Stop before it’s too late,_ his conscience damn-near screamed, but then Peter gasped and Tony’s thumb slipped into the boy’s mouth and - well fuck, it was too late. He prodded the inside of Peter’s cheek before reaching across the boy’s teeth to rest against his tongue. It squirmed underneath the callused skin as Peter audibly swallowed before relaxing once more. Tony rubbed back and forth, never once looking away from Peter’s wide gaze as he pulled out his thumb and circled the boy’s mouth with glistening wetness.

“M-Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice, barely above a whisper, quivered. He shifted, elbow digging into Tony’s side as slim hips canted against his thigh. Tony’s teeth gritted against a groan as he felt Peter’s hardening cock pressing into the fabric of his jeans. “I-I-”

“Shh,” Tony soothed, patting the boy’s head soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

The teen’s shirt had lifted a bit more, allowing Tony’s hand to delve beneath the fabric and grasp Peter’s slender hip. He guided the boy forward and back in a single rock and Peter’s face scrunched up adorably, head tipping back as he moaned.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark,” he panted desperately. “I'm gonna-”

“Shh,” Tony repeated, fingers twisting warningly in Peter’s hair. “Can you be a good for me, Pete?”

He head nodded so vigorously, his neck may have been in danger of snapping.

“Just like this,” Tony instructed softly, maneuvering Peter’s hips into a languid roll against his thigh. “You’re doing so well.” The praise forced a desperate moan from Peter’s throat as his fingers scrambled against Tony’s chest, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt, before the boy surged forward and threw his arms around Tony’s neck, face burying into the man’s throat. He drew up on his knees, and the new angle was nothing short of _amazing,_ allowing Peter to rut furiously into Tony’s stomach as he let out a litany of choked, desperate whimpers.

“So good,” Tony praised, one hand splaying across the boy’s back to press him down, the other cupping the boy’s head. “So perfect, and beautiful, my sweet Pete, can you come for me?”

Peter cried out, hoarse and broken and frantic as his hips began to falter and he came against Tony’s stomach. The boy’s arms, around Tony’s neck, tightened as he sagged against the older man, his frame shuddering sporadically.

“Perfect, you’re so amazing,” Tony continued to compliment, brushing sweat-dampened curls from Peter’s slick forehead.

Then suddenly the boy jerked back, and Tony’s heart lurched in his chest - he had fucked up, crossed the line so fucking far he couldn’t even _see_ it anymore, there was no going back - as Peter looked up at him, eyes widening in horror. “What about you, Mr. Stark?” he demanded. “I can-”

Biting back a relieved sigh, Tony said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-” Tony leaned down, lips smothering the rest of Peter’s protest. The teen tasted so soft and sweet, his mouth moving with desperation if not skill. “Nnnguh,” he moaned as Tony pulled away. So eloquent, his boy. “Can we do that again?” Peter asked, after regaining his voice.

“Which part?” Tony quipped with a smirk.

Peter flushed, stumbling over his words before finally managing, “Kiss. The kiss - um, kissing.”

“You know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, right?” he lamented.

“Erm, no?” Peter responded quizzically.

Tony snorted, ruffling the boy’s hair as he peppered Peter’s forehead and nose with kisses. Peter whimpered discontentedly before Tony finally pressed their lips together once more.

“You should probably go shower before anyone else comes in,” he warned.

Peter simply grunted, the little brat, as he snuggled once more against Tony’s chest. Well, it was hard to argue against that; Tony’s arms wrapped around Peter’s back as his head thudded against the backrest, eyes drifting closed.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://airebellah.tumblr.com/)


End file.
